


Captain Oblivious

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But Natasha has some really dirty thoughts, F/M, Steve isn't paying attention, Tumblr Prompt, and then they fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha doesn't understand how one man can be so incredibly tempting and oblivious at the same time. One woman's quest to resist the sex appeal of the one and only Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Oblivious

Steve was doing _it_ again. Stationed in the gym dressed in blue sweatpants and a frustratingly tight, white t-shirt, the soldier was punching at his eighth or ninth bag with all he had, sweat dripping down his face and over his jaw, sliding down the smooth line of his neck. From her vantage point, Natasha could see the way his biceps tightened with every punch, the way his torso twisted as he switched from arm to arm, the way his ass bounced as his punches grew more and more fierce. He was more than a specimen. Natasha was pretty sure that he and Thor had to discuss which one of them was the soldier and which one was the demigod because a mistake had clearly been made.

She'd come in nearly ten minutes ago, ready to have at the uneven bars and maybe challenge whoever was in there to a round or two in the ring, but she hadn't moved from her position near the door. It was a stroke of genius that Tony had put the punching bag where he had, so the first sight upon entrance was Steve's strong back and an ass Natasha really wanted to sink her teeth into. Swinging down from the ceiling, Clint poked her arm and grinned. “You always did have a thing for a healthy ass,” he teased, earning a sideways glare. Luckily, that snapped her out of her trance and Natasha shook out her curls before marching over to the ring with Clint in tow, holding him hostage by the front of his shirt.

Two rounds later, Natasha glanced back to find Steve watching them and straightened up, offering Clint a hand to pull him off the floor. “See anything you like?” she asked the soldier, tilting her head back and forth to stretch out her neck. Maybe he'd say yes. Maybe Steve would ask Clint to leave and press her down right there, hold her hands behind her back while he pulled her hips in the air and pressed into her, leaving deep bruises because he just couldn't control himself. Yeah. Maybe that would happen.

“I'm just always amazed by how well you guys know each other,” he praised. “You look like you came right out of an action movie about... ninjas or something.” Natasha wanted to bang her head against something. It certainly didn't look like hot sex in the gym was going to happen today. Clint did a back-flip and bowed like an idiot while Natasha just stepped out of the ring, leaving Steve and Clint alone. She needed a shower and some quality time with the toys in her drawer.

This was what her life had come to. Sure, she'd have sex once in a while, but when your fantasies involve literally the perfect physical specimen of man, it's hard to just settle. Instead of dealing with shitty sex with strangers, Natasha had invested in several expensive vibrators, including one that was advertised as Cap-themed. She was not ashamed, damnit, but she _had_ installed a lock on that particular drawer to keep certain prying eyes (i.e., Tony) out of it.

The thing was that Steve could be doing something totally mundane like washing the dishes or brushing his teeth and he would somehow find a way to make that hot. Not that the actual activity was hot, but Natasha found herself fantasizing about him anyway! If he was lecturing Tony about something, she was thinking about how he might punish her if she didn't listen. If he was sketching, she was thinking about posing for him after a night of rough sex, all wrapped up in his sheets. If he was fighting particularly hard in the field, she was thinking about offering him a way to blow off some steam.

The second issue was that Steve was completely, entirely, one hundred percent unaware of Natasha's suffering. She did everything she could, short of actually mounting him and demanding that he fuck her wherever they happened to be at the moment. Natasha had worn shirts with low necklines and made sure to bend over in front of him. She'd taken pains to show off her legs as often as possible because she had a feeling he was that kind of guy. She'd even sacrificed her pride and her dignity at one point in favor of touching his arm or his chest, squeezing his bicep and sliding her hand over his shoulder once in a while. Nothing. Not even a little _hint_ that he knew what was going on. Once when she'd planted her hands on her lower back and arched it up to push out her chest a little bit, he'd gone through the trouble of asking her if there was something wrong with her back and whether or not she’d like him to find her a chiropractor.

The kicker, above all else, was that Steve was definitely attracted to her- if his reaction in the mall that time was any indication, at least. Not to mention that she did catch him looking at her sometimes, either during a fight or in the gym. But he wasn’t _doing_ anything about it and that was bothering her to no end! Was it so much to ask? Was expecting Steve to manhandle her onto the floor and fuck her silly really so much to ask?

In Natasha’s defense, it was kind of difficult to not feel that way about Steve. He was literally the perfect man, the perfect specimen of masculinity all wrapped up in a package with pretty blue eyes and this warm smile that would have even the most frigid woman fanning herself. She wanted him every which way; missionary, doggy style, upside down, her on top, cowgirl… She didn’t _care_. As far as Natasha was concerned, Steve could say he was into fucking in public or her calling him ‘Daddy’ or spanking and she’d go right along with it as long as his dick wound up inside her. With that said, it was a little disconcerting to note that her naughty thoughts about Steve didn’t stop when she found out that he was into men as well. No, if anything, they doubled because now she had a whole crop of new fantasies to dream up. Now, she could imagine someone fucking him hard while he ate her out. She could imagine _Thor_ fucking him or she could imagine Steve fucking Tony, or Bucky! She could also imagine putting her strap-on to good use and fucking him herself because that ass was way too tempting to let go. The possibilities were absolutely endless.  
  
Maybe it was because he was so _available_. Steve refused to date any of the girls she suggested (out of desperation and no, she was not jealous) and wouldn’t go find one on his own either. It was terribly annoying of him to not have a girlfriend and therefore give Natasha not one single reason why they couldn’t enjoy hours upon hours of absolutely filthy fucking. Damn him. Besides, she didn’t need to give in to her baser instinct just to satisfy a simple (i.e., intense, aggravating, overwhelming) craving. She was perfectly fine with her toys and her spaced out one-night stands or a night every now and then with Clint. Steve was not the only guy with a nice body and a likely very impressive cock. She was _fine_ with what she had.  
  
She was so not fine. Natasha sat at the kitchen table with her tea in hand, her lips pressed together in annoyance and her eyes following the long line of Steve’s back…which was on display…because the fucker came to breakfast shirtless. Oh, no. Not just shirtless. Steve waltzed into the kitchen that morning wearing only a pair of grey pajama bottoms that were slung so low on his hips, Natasha could see not only the dips just above his ass, but also the beginnings of the v-shaped lines leading down to his groin. In addition, and she noted this with particular difficulty, the bastard was definitely going commando.  
  
Did the others not realize that there was a walking Adonis in the kitchen? Natasha briefly glanced over to Tony and Bruce, who were caught up arguing back and forth about some formula or chemical or something, and Clint and Thor, who were both equally engrossed in their breakfasts. They were useless, every single one of them. Of course, it was more than likely that Steve didn’t even realize what he was doing- his hair was still messed and he looked like he needed a cup of coffee, but that was _no excuse_ to be walking around with all his goods hanging out. Where was his _decency_?  
  
It was especially inconvenient because Natasha’s mind immediately went to wondering whether or not she could lick and bite her way down that line, nuzzle into the coarse blonde hair leading down from his lower belly, wrap her lips around his cock and just have at him without being questioned by the other people in the kitchen. Steve leaned his hip against the counter while he poured sugar into his coffee and Natasha chewed on her lower lip in thought. Probably not, right? That was a pretty obvious thing to do. She glanced over at the guys again and considered it. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice… Okay, no. Bad Natasha.  
  
“Looking good, Rogers,” she said smoothly, hinting again at there being some kind of attraction here, not that she expected him to notice such a subtle suggestion when the obvious signs had flown right over his very attractive head. “Who are you trying to impress?” Steve chuckled and sat down, picking up a plain pancake and rolling it up before taking a big bite like that.  
  
“Hey, I don’t mock you when you come out half dressed in the morning,” he teased back. A tease. Goddamnit. She wanted to slap him and force him to take her at her word. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to impress JARVIS. He’s the one who’s always watching me.” She might actually cry. JARVIS answered with some quip about how he’d seen more nudity than he ever wanted to, thank you, and Natasha inwardly sobbed because Steve was fucking _obtuse_. Then again, she _had_ been living in a state of nearly constant sexual frustration for ages now. It wasn’t healthy! And it therefore wasn’t entirely her fault when she stood up suddenly and marched out of the kitchen, heading back to her bedroom for her own kind of fun and grumbling about how incredibly, unbelievably stupid the men in her life were.

After that morning, Natasha only controlled herself for three more days. During those three days, she’d seen exactly three things that put an end to her patience.

First, she’d witnessed Steve sparring with Thor, both men shirtless and sweating, hair flying, muscles bulging. She’d watched in rather annoyed silence until they noticed and greeted her, one of Thor’s beefy arms slung around Steve’s shoulders. She’d gotten out of there so fast she was sure there were marks on the floor in her wake.

Second, she’d watched Steve come back from his morning jog and stand in front of the fridge, gulping down a bottle of water and entirely unaware of the fact that his shirt was sticking to him in a way that made Natasha lick her lips.

Third, and probably worst of all, she’d been forced to stand by while Steve was openly flirted with by nearly every single woman who happened to walk into the gala they were attending that night- as a team. Perched on a barstool with a glass of red wine in hand, she watched as one, two, three, four… _nine_ women took their turn chatting him up, all without actually getting him to dance with them or take them home. Why was he being so _difficult_? It wasn’t that she was jealous. No, of course not. Why would she be jealous? If Steve took one of those women home, she couldn’t be tempted anymore. Wasn’t that the way it worked? She assumed it was, and he wasn’t _cooperating_.

The morning after the gala, Natasha was in the kitchen drinking her tea and reading a book, glad to be up so early as to avoid the no doubt hung-over groaning that would come from some of her teammates (i.e., Clint and Tony, and maybe Bruce). She was all ready to face the day because at this point, she’d resisted for so long, she was practically immune. Clearly.

Unfortunately for Steve, he made a mistake almost fifteen whole seconds after he’d entered the kitchen. “Hey, Nat,” he’d greeted as usual, giving her a wide smile while he moved to fill his mug of choice with coffee. “You know, I meant to tell you how nice you looked last night. Wish I’d gotten a chance to dance with you.”

That. Bastard.

Natasha glared ineffectually at his back, pressing her lips together. That was it. That was the last straw. “Put your coffee down,” she ordered, sliding her book onto the table and standing up. He raised his eyebrows, but did as he was told and she resisted the urge to praise him like a dog following commands. Instead, she moved forward and kissed him hard, leaning up on her toes and using both hands to pull his head down to her while she crashed their lips together. Steve seemed shocked, but his hands landed just above the curve of her ass and she smirked against his lips before pulling away just slightly to look him over.

Eyes dilated, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Perfect.

Slipping her hands down from where they were resting against his chest, Natasha took his hand and pulled, dragging him out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Nat?” he asked with some confusion. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going somewhere with a seat,” she answered cryptically, moving until he was standing with his back to the sofa and she was facing him. Heedless of the windows _or_ the expected arrival of the rest of the team, she kissed him again, shoving him back onto the couch and straddling his waist. It felt amazing. It felt like everything that had been building up was just exploding and as she rolled her hips down against him, moaning openly when his hands landed on her ass, she realized that this was going to be… every bit as spectacular as she expected.

His shirt came off first and Natasha set about kissing his neck, sliding off his lap as she worked her way down. Deft fingers pulled at the band of his pajama pants, pulling them off and tossing them aside to get a good look at him. “I knew it,” she murmured to herself, casually sitting back and tugging the big shirt she was wearing over her head. Left in just the tights she’d worn to bed, Natasha leaned forward and took him in hand, reaching between her legs for some relief while she stroked him, rubbing her thumb over the slit at the top. He was thick- thick and impressively long, with a big, flushed head she was just dying to taste—Wait, why not?

Leaning forward and spreading his legs to accommodate her desired position between them, Natasha licked her lips and slid them over the head of his dick, enjoying the way he moaned and pushed her hair out of the way to no end. He wanted to see her and she turned her eyes up, lewdly bobbing her head and making sure her lips slid over the ridge at the top. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room, making any attempt at plausible deniability null and void. Not that she cared. True to her word, Natasha didn’t give a single fuck who might see them.

With her patience basically already at zero, Natasha pulled her mouth off with a pop as soon as she was sure Steve wasn’t getting any harder. Standing up, she shucked her tights and climbed back onto him, lightly brushing her thumb over his lower lip to part them before slotting their mouths together. His hands slid up her thighs, squeezing her ass for a moment before continuing up the length of her back. Natasha felt _prized_ and _cherished_ and _wanted_ \- everything she hadn’t been feeling from Steve for the last few months while she’d been lusting after him.

And then finally, after ages of wanting and resisting, Natasha reached between them and held him still so she could sink down onto him, eventually settling on his thighs. Looping her arms around his neck, she began to move, rolling her hips and letting him guide her with two big hands spread out on her hips. Her moans, low and smooth, were only muffled by his hair and his by nothing save her shoulder when he deigned to bother covering them up. They moved together, Steve’s feet planted on the floor so he could press his hips up and she could meet his movements with ease.

Huffing against his temple, Natasha let her nails bite into the skin on his back and doubled her efforts, using her knees for leverage as she carelessly bounced on his cock, too glad for the opportunity to worry about how sore she might be for the rest of the day. She was relentless, not stopping or pausing for a single moment because it felt too damn good.

Well, that is… until Tony came around the corner. “Woah! Oh my God, get a room!” Shielding his eyes, he backed up and right into Clint, who peeked around the corner for just long enough to figure out what was going on. “Seriously, Tasha? In the living room? I’ve napped on that couch!”

Natasha paused briefly and let out a breathless laugh right into Steve’s ear. He liked that, she guessed, because his hands tightened on her hips and he pressed up enough to make her gasp. “I suggest,” she began, her voice thick with arousal and amusement. “You turn around, walk the other way, and pretend none of this ever happened.”

There was something of a retort from Tony about how he couldn’t forget about it, not with all the bleach in the world, but Natasha leaned back, picked up one of the remotes and chucked it at them, catching Tony’s only exposed shoulder from where he was hiding around the corner. Muffled swearing gave way to Clint dragging Tony away and Natasha grinned.

“Where were we?” Steve smirked and leaned up to kiss her, dragging her down against him and rolling his hips, encouraging her to grind back down against him without bouncing at all. Her lips fell open as her head fell back, allowing him to mouth his way down the slope of her neck while they rutted against one another.

Steve was the first to come, spilling inside her with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, one hand braced on her back. He let out a low groan against her left breast, wetly kissing his way over her jaw and up to her lips. When his hand slid between her legs while his cock was still throbbing inside her, it took Natasha just a few more moments before she was clawing at his scalp and holding onto his hair for balance while she rocked against his hand. She came surprisingly hard, her thighs shaking as she tried to hold herself up a little longer.

No such luck. Slowly letting go of his hair, Natasha slumped forward and pressed her chest against his, panting into the crook of his neck. Finally. Fucking _finally_. They were quiet for several moments, both breathing hard and trying to recover. By the time Natasha caught her breath, she figured she could convince him to follow her back to her room for a few hours of very slow exploration- she wanted to bite his ass.

But something happened that kind of threw her for a loop. Still buried inside her, Steve’s cock twitched when she shifted just slightly. Intrigued, she shifted again. She rolled her hips, lightly dragged her fingers over his chest to tease a no-doubt sensitive nipple. He gasped, but it was the way he was already thickening inside her that had her moaning again. “Well, Captain,” she breathed, tilting his head up with two fingers under his chin. “What do you say to another round?”

She didn’t get any verbal answer, but the way he flipped them over and pinned her hands above her head was all the response she’d ever needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
